Neverwinter Sketches
by Sycrylacryl
Summary: Neverwinter Nights 2 from the perspective of Elvarien Dess, elven sorcerer, duelist and survivalist. Parts of the OC and beyond. Note the story does not follow MoTB but is an alternative storyline. The King of Shadow's portal sends Elvarien to a different world, and convinced the others have been scattered throughout the planes, she vows never to rest until she finds them all.
1. Loss

_Please feel free to criticize anything from grammar to D&D canon (3-3.5 Edition). I will likely make changes to and/or extend material already posted. Some dialogue is from the game. Starts off on a serious note._

_~Chapter guide~ _

_Loss: A Shandra memorial. Bloody. _

_Responsibility: Elvarien prods Casavir. Not with anything sharp thankfully._

_Drink: Good times? Perhaps. _

_Auras: Something uninvited visits the keep. _

_Mt. Galardrym: Fire giants, elves, a dwarf, and a cranky paladin._

* * *

"Shandra," she said as she looked on to her grave in the distance.

A flat, square stone lay on one of many green knolls surrounding the wheat fields. The stone came from Neverwinter's quarry, a fine cut of granite. Her name put simply: "Shandra Jerro" and underneath "Beloved Forever." Small flowers and ivy were carved into the corners.

No one was there to urge her to return to the keep, to continue with daily life as well as one could with the King of Shadow's lurking in the Mere. She came alone to see Shandra a month since the Haven, despite the risk, against the protests of those she led. Right now, she preferred isolation to crowds, loneliness to the suffocating needs of others. Days, months, time mattered little. She wanted to stay until she repaid the debt of blood. Yet it could never be. On these hills, as the sun disappeared and the day died.

"You stray far from your keep Knight Captain," came a low voice behind her. She slowly moved her hands towards the rapier at her side, flames licking upward from the blade.

A deep, throaty laugh seemed to issue from the forest, creeping into her mind. A shiver ran through her shoulders; however it was one of anxiety, not fear. "Don't even think of moving that sword an inch, or I will take your head clean off."

"I have heard that threat often enough." Elvarien turned slowly with her hands held loosely up. "Rogues... Assassins... A half-orc? How interesting."

"They never said you had the filthy tongue of a racist, whore," the fighter hissed. "Although I can hardly be surprised – you are responsible for the slaughter of hundreds of my mother's kindred." He came forward and stopped a couple of meters away.

The half-orc stood nearly seven feet tall, numerous heads over her. His face was a greyed skeletal mask with deep scars about his eyes, cheekbones and prominent forehead. Black greasy braids hung like ropes from his scalp. A vicious looking heavy crossbow pointed at her throat. The smell was... Her eyes followed the half-orc's outline. Many men, perhaps half a dozen in dark leather garb, hid close in shadow.

"You smell of Luskan. The docks. I'd know that stench anywhere. I've dispatched enough of your kind… And indeed, I have the greatest respect for people of your heritage."

"Before I kill you, enlighten me."

"The Champion of Neverwinter's companion, I have heard the stories of him ever since I was a little girl. He was one of the greatest and most honorable warriors that ever walked Faerun."

The personal aside checked the fighter's rage for a moment. A distraction, though every word of it was true. Elvarien wondered how she could offer such an intimate detail of her life to killers. Then again, she'd been bled and gutted by them countless times before. Was this so different?

They advanced, teeth bared and bloodthirsty eyes focused on their prey. If only Bishop was here. He was their reflection.

"Luskan dogs!" The dwarf roared as he plowed through the shadows with his axe. Daggers stabbed at him from all directions but the stout fighter fought them off like insects, hacking away. Not far behind, the flicker of a tail announced the arrival of Neeshka as her own daggers sliced open throats with enviable grace. And Casavir, stalwart and following the tail of the surprise attack, held his hammer high to smite the half-orc a moment too late.

There was no time to cast stoneskin, the most important spell in her repertoire. Elvarien's constitution wasn't as poor as it once was, yet she needed those few seconds to ensure her defense and concentration; to blast the bastard to the hells. She almost _never_ took a step in hostile territory without invoking it. However coughing dust during rest periods and looking like a statue most of her life was tiresome. After settling the peace with the lizardmen around Highcliff, the spell seemed unnecessary.

A bolt stuck in her throat and she choked. She had indeed underestimated her assassin, careless of her own safety, without a sacrifice like Shandra's to justify it. The mistakes shamed her as she lunged forward, rapier in hand, and stabbed the half-orc in the belly.

_Got a bit of the slime_, crossed her mind as she crunched gasping hopelessly for air into the ground. Battle cries raged about her. Her face flattened and mouth full of dirt and blood, she saw nothing but spiraling whisps of light in a black void.

* * *

"_Do_ something Casavir!"

"You'll tear her lungs out if you pull it!"

"Lord Tyr-."

"Zhjaeve! Gods we need Zhjaeve!"

"HURRY!"

The sky was quiet. Elvarien felt she'd experienced the most pain in her life, all in an instant that had only just passed. Yet no dull ache remained. A warming sensation filled her face, feeling out to her cheeks. Silence, the beautiful hush of the trees about Shandra's farm fed her soul.

"My lady, wake. Please."

He would save 'please' for near death experiences. Her eyes were open but they did not see anything but sky for a while. Khelgar and Neeshka shook in turn, slightly disturbed.

She sat up and anger spread over every part of her face. Her voice shook, like a mother gathering herself into a rage. "You –"

"It was all my doing, my Lady," Casavir cut her off nervously. "We never meant to make our presence known unle–"

"Risking your necks for nothing! Fools! I should have known I was dismissing what I thought was my imagination to be treacherous footsteps! You gave your words. _All_ of you."

Khelgar responded with a 'humph.' Neeshka looked guiltily at the ground. Casavir's face froze in expression of shock. He blanched, stood up and looked away.

"We… we just lost Shandra…" Neeshka whispered.

Elvarien fell onto her hands and fought the urge to cry. She would not grieve in front of them. Weakness in a leader undermined even the strongest army. After a minute, she said as softly as possible: "I know."

Their group had become so fond of Shandra. She complained continuously, judged Elvarien's actions almost as often as Casavir. But no one was as brave and determined in a fight, or as gentle and good to them. Now she had been sacrificed on an already gory, blood-soaked altar, for a cause she didn't even understand.

"I am… so sorry," Elvarien faced them with dry, tired eyes. "I shouldn't blame you for what you did. I have endangered the lives of countless people. I shan't do so again."

"Don't be so hard on yourself lass." Khelgar stood by her shoulder.

Elvarien spoke slowly. "I've lost no trust in any of you. In my anger… I only hope that you have not lost your trust in me."

"Never did," Khelgar smiled.

"You can count on me, er, except maybe this time," Neeshka half laughed.

Elvarien looked up at the paladin. Casavir was staring at the wreckage of Shandra's barn and house. Then he turned away, his back facing them, and began to walk towards Highcliff.


	2. Responsibility

The road to the keep, Elvarien thought, would be uncomfortably silent. However Neeshka was present and so that was an impossibility. Beside her she chattered away about anything from cracking the chests of Castle Never (nearly a challenge) on their last visit to Nasher, to playing pranks on the newer greycloaks at the keep.

"They don't have much gold on them. But you can always swap everyone's purses by the end of a shift." She smiled wickedly.

"You wouldn't!" Elvarien laughed.

"I just sit on the wall and watch. Best entertainment around. Sometimes Qara comes and sets one of their cloaks on fire, if there's a spellcaster among them. Then the fights get really ugly."

The dwalf and paladin followed a little ways behind them. Elvarien heard Khelgar mutter "demon of the nine hells." Neeshka's tail thrashed around threateningly, but she ignored the slight. At least for today.

"You know Ell, Sand prepared some potions and stuff at great expense before we followed you," Neeshka continued. "Invisibility, some silencing spells. And… you know… I looked into your private stash of magical clothing for a few things. But I swear I didn't nick a bootlace!"

"I wouldn't notice if you did."

"Liar."

It was true that Elvarien loved treasure, almost as bad as a dragon. She scrutinized all objects collected in 'the line of duty,' and decided what should be dealt to each of her followers. She reordered her inventory constantly and hid things with great care. Even Casavir early on had begun to give her disapproving looks, as she stripped bodies of everything, down to the last gold piece and useless potion. One day, after handing over an exorbitant amount of gold to Veedle to improve the keep's defenses, she flipped. Casavir barely had a chance to clear his throat in the Ruins of Arvahn before she brandished her rapier at speeds his God would have had trouble following. "And _how_ do you _think_ we _pay_ for _everything_? _For everything on your HOLY HIDE?_" When Bishop heard about this, it was one of the rare days when he wasn't quite so miserable in the Knight Captain's service.

A distant look remained in Casavir's eyes into the next day. He almost never spoke. Khelgar was unnaturally quiet with no skulls to crush. Their journey was moderately monster free. Just a few dire beasts.

At a time when Elvarien's reputation as a challenging bounty reached Amn and beyond, the attacks on her were becoming increasingly pathetic. This last attempt, however, possessed a little more finesse. Even for an elven sorcerer, her hearing and sight nearly rivaled that of an accomplished ranger. She did not hear the Luskans. She was the one who was sloppy, this time.

Along the High Road, Khelgar suggested they make camp before he gnawed his limbs off from starvation. They knealt close to a smokeless fire: indispensible magic Sand declined to source. He kept his secrets readily enough when he wished to. Elvarien suspected Bishop knew more than he let on about it, he seemed to be familiar with the art. Whatever the case, the spell meant their presence would not be announced to enemies miles around, day or night.

Sleep stole upon Khelgar first, his axe held tightly to his chest. Neeshka curled up under a tree with her daggers drawn under her blankets. Elvarien filled with pride. Enemies were hard pressed to surprise these adventurers. She always harangued those even the slightest bit careless in her party, until it was a habit with them as it was with her. Some needed more encouragement than others. _Grobnar_ _Gnomeskull, for instance._ However she had won that title yesterday with all its honors.

Off from the fire Casavir sat, plated knees stuck up awkwardly. _Must be uncomfortable_. He never took the junk off. Well, to be fair, it was pretty expensive junk. He leaned slightly against a large rock he strongly resembled. Elvarien didn't want them to arrive at the keep on such terms. In the main hall it was impossible to talk to him, he became even more reclusive than on the road. He became a part of the keep's walls, armor that reflected duty, imprisoned... something. Of the man she knew so little.

"Casavir?" Elvarien stood a few feet away by a large, hollow tree.

"Yes?" He was still and his eyes remained focused on the flames.

"You are angry that I called you disloyal, that you broke your promise. You did break it. But for a good reason."

"We must always be able defend you. The mission cannot be completed without the Ritual, my lady, as you well know. The King of Shadows would surely be victorious if you died." Casavir voice was barren of emotion.

_No need to remind me of my duty, paladin. I felt it the day I left my home, and it has never left. I once thought I would die if I strayed from the path the shards had laid before me. Now I know how mistaken I was._

"I was foolish. Forgive me."

"There is no need." He paused and after a while, his face did not look so grave. "I… have been struggling with some feelings of late. I hope this is a proper time to speak of it..."

"What concerns you?" she whispered.

"I… am loyal to you. Do not doubt this. But there are times when I feel my duty comes second, and I don't wish such feelings to place you in jeopardy."

"Sorry?" Elvarien couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I know you are more than capable to defend yourself... But I find myself rather turning to you rather than the task at hand. I see to your safety before attending to matters that affect us all, as a group."

"But why?"

"It is difficult to follow you, there is much to admire."

"Do you have– Are you saying you have feelings for me?"

"I wish to… protect you, yes."

The leaves rustling above soothed Elvarien. "That's why you came to find me."

"Khelgar and Neeshka were considering it. Once I said I would... Well, then it was settled."

"I see. I'm still sorry for putting you in a fix."

"No... I should have tried harder to convince you to be safe. To not go alone."

"I needed to be. Just this once."

"It's sad what happened to Shandra. I'm sorry. She had a good heart."

"I'm tired." Elvarien slowly walked away, her feet snapping dry branches. In the dark, she heard a voice over the thrum of the crickets and the creaking of the trees.

"It was not your fault, my lady."

She went a little further before finding a place to lie down and weep.


	3. Drink

_(I am mortified I called Sal "Sam." NWN2 enthusiasts, you may slay me for this grievous error. I am not worthy, "WE ARE WORMS!")_

"Sal." Elvarien leaned against the bar and gave him one of her sternest looks. "I need to drink myself under a table. Any table. Do you have anything really strong for elves?"

Bishop, with his feet stretched across a table in his usual corner at the Phoenix Tail Inn, snorted into his tankard. Callous laughter filled the room and drew the stares of merchants talking about inflated potion prices.

"Shut up," the Knight Captain said sharply without looking at the bastard. She gave Sal a forced smile. "I will be avoiding _that_ particular table. Perhaps I should get something to go…"

"Well Knight Captain… I…" Sal stuttered.

"Just get me some liquor that could make a dent in a dwarf."

"Now that's what I'm bloody talking about!" Khelgar came up the ale-stained counter and banged down on it with his fist. "Firebelly Whisky! And hurry it up!"

Sam gave Elvarien a nervous look. She rolled her eyes: "Serve him."

Once Khelgar had three tankards lined up and froth all the way down his armor, Elvarien turned back to the plate polishing Sal. "Well?"

"I have some Elverquisst and Evereskan Clearwater. Though it's a little watered down."

"That'll do fine. Bring me two bottles of each and three more bottles of whisky, just in case."

Khelgar slammed down his tankard and wiped away the froth. "Damn good stuff, better than that pisswater at Duncan's… What did you say lass? You're going to join me?"

"I think I'll have a little party back at the keep. You can come if you like. I'll pay for your whisky. Oh right, I have a tab for everyone." Elvarien got out a pile of gold pieces from her pocket. "Will this cover our group's ransacking of your stocks Sal?" She winked at him, feeling guilty for being irritable before.

He smiled and nodded. The innkeeper took the pile in his hands and went to the back. He returned with seven bottles of different shapes and colors. Khelgar's eyes widened as he downed the second tankard. "Ah! Well now, that's a bit much isn't it for a little girl like you? I've never seen you drink liquor a t'all."

"Elven tolerance I've heard is something to behold." Elvarien took the weave basket that Sal put all the bottles in. "Thanks Sal, here, take this stone. I'm not sure what it is. From my experience however, it must be worth a great deal. Deekin or Uncus could probably fill you in. For all the times Neeshka stole from you. And for being a dear while I bitch away as usual."

"No problem ma'am."

"Save your kisses for this nice piece of ass right here." Bishop muttered hoarsely from behind her. His breath was hot on her neck and reeked of cheap ale. The ranger slipped his arm around her waist nimbly enough for a drunk and began to feel down… With a battle cry Elvarien jammed the hilt of her rapier into his ribs as hard as she could. Bishop gasped for air as if laughing again. He was.

"Vile, godforsaken cretin," Elvarien dusted herself off as if duelist garb had been soiled. She delivered her best leer. Sal decided this was a good time to go in the back again. The merchants hastily made their way to their rooms.

"Clamp yer trap and keep to your corner whelp!" Khelgar threw his last tankard of Fire Whisky (already drunk of course, one does not waste good spirits) at Bishop.

Bishop stumbled sideways to avoid the projectile. "That's the best you got?" He had a funny smirk on his face. "Why don't we have that private party upstairs Dess? I'm still a little thirsty."

"Don't waste your demonic breath," Elvarien snatched the basket of liquor off the bar and drew out her rapier wreathed in flame. "Now get lost before I roast you."

"Eh, you're not worth the effort," Bishop staggered back to his haunt. Elvarien had never seen him quite this drunk. "You know, there's a distinct lack of wenches in this establishment. You could put that on you're to do list, _Knight Captain_."

* * *

"Ahhhhhrrrggghhh!"

Elvarien swung the basket around, the bottles knocking together as she climbed up to the keep in the dark. She was sure she'd woken up Elanee, curled up in her bear form by the armory. Elvarien had looked forward to drinking herself senseless for the first time in her life. Bishop, as usual, ruined her mood. But that wasn't going to stop her. She just had to make sure Casavir didn't lurk about as he sometimes did before going to bed. Luckily his armor clinked loudly enough to warn anyone of his approach. No more judgments, delays or interruptions, not for the Knight Captain off duty.

Candles shone orange in the dark interior of the keep. Uncus had taken off, Torio Claven returned to her room-cell, and Aldanon and Qara had gone to bed. There was no sign of Casavir. Sand kept the fireplace going in the library, reading tomes as usual. Elvarien could see the glow from under the door. Kana came forward from her usual spot in the main hall, the pair of wordless greycloak sentinels looking on. They were strong contenders for a Casavir impersonation contest. Kana almost appeared as tired as Elvarien felt.

"Knight Captain, there is something we should discuss before you retire."

"Can't it wait until morning? It's been too long a day." Elvarien hoped the shadows hid the contents of the basket. She tried to shift the basket out of sight even though it was too obvious to hide.

"Sorry but this is important," Kana's fierce, slanted eyes peered into her. Elvarien shuddered from the cool draft from the door and the intensity of her lieutenant's self-discipline that until lately was so much like her own.

"Alright," Elvarien put the basket on the cold stone floor. _Clunk_. "What is it?"

"The new village you allowed to be built by that fellow Ziffer… a band of thieves masquerading as adventurers robbed the town's funds. A few people were badly injured. Ziffer is threatening to leave unless a patrol is sent to arrest the criminals and we provide a twenty-four hour guard to protect the village. By morning."

"I'll pay for the losses if the money isn't retrieved. Split the road patrols for this mission in the morning. Might as well send word now."

"Of course."

"Will Ziffer be coming to the keep to discuss the arrangements?"

"No, he's staying with the injured. I think you can depend on the 'cloaks to solve this problem on their own. They're well prepared, with good equipment and training, thanks to you."

Elvarien shook her head. "No, Kana, if there's a savior of this keep, it's you. I just pay the bills and deal with power hungry corpses."

"Thank you Knight Captain, you do me great honor. You know…" Her eyes moved to the basket on the floor. "Tomorrow will be quite uneventful. Routine really. You're not required to supervise."

"I can't do anything in this keep, without someone knowing about it before I actually _do_ it. You just had to go make me feel guilty Lieutenant," Elvarien said sheepishly. "How will I sleep with this town's fate looming over me?"

"You have more than enough there to do the job." As Elvarien and Kana spoke Sand had stepped into the hall with an orb of light over his head. He wore black robes lined with silver and an expression of both boredom and distaste.

"You can tell from there?" Elvarien cocked a brow.

"As I am sure you are aware (or perhaps you aren't, that would explain much), I am a wizard of considerable talent. I also possess a keen sense of smell. This helps or hinders me in this world, depending on the company you decide to keep. Now if you don't mind, I would like some peace and quiet to read. It's impossible to concentrate in the day with the racket you all make."

"Curb your tongue, wizard," Kana snapped. "And address her ladyship as _Knight Captain_."

"Oh please. I'm hundreds of years older than this baby. I don't take orders from infants."

"It's alright Kana, why don't you turn in? Sand, I've got some Elven wine if you'd like to join me."

Sand crinkled his nose. "It's watered down." He returned to the library, the white light dissipating from the hall.


	4. Auras

Elvarien sat on the only chair in her room. The chair was dark mahogany, with a red cushion that just barely made it comfortable. A bottle of Clearwater hung at her knee. She had only half finished it, gulping between intervals of staring out the window at the sleeping farmland. The crescent moon hid behind blue clouds, a pearly sliver in the night like a God's eye slowly opening from a dream. Yellowed and blood strewn scrolls were scattered over a desk under a large landscape painting, a mountain covered in the green leaves and bright blooms of summer.

_That old saying is true, about drinking alone. It's a sorry business._

After the first bottle, and the next, Elvarien decided to take a trip to the basement of the keep. Watching Grobnar work was always entertaining.

Torches burned along the finely hewn walls faintly, magic hardly sustaining the flames. The gong alarm, if struck, would send them all ablaze. Spitting furiously like shattered blastglobes. If the enemy came; the King of Shadows made his presence known.

A rattling sound came from somewhere deep in the keep.

The flames around her stirred for a moment. _Like the torches at Lord Tavorick's mansion, turning blue with the arrival of demons._ Elvarien's skin froze. Shadows, like claws, grew long across the stones. They barred her way. The wind howled outside, yet a hush fell upon the hall that muffled all sound. She heard her name spoken, echoing through the crevices in the floor. Elvarien grasped for her bare chest, felt the small, warm scar between her breasts.

Hot blood rushed from her heart, energy hummed in her ears. Fire burst from her fingertips and alighted from her hair. She recited the verse for The Shining Shield, prismatic light shooting outwards, the air rippling like water.

The hall was blurry behind the oval shield. Strings of colour revolved around it as moons do about a planet.

_The hells was that?_

Whatever presence lingered before had disappeared. The little practice she had in the arcane did not allow her explain away the occurrence because of the wine, or a childish, instinctual fear of the dark. No, that had been the Guardian.

The door to the basement stood at the base of the stairs. Her foot pressed against the first step down. Unbeknownst to her, much time had passed since she invoked the ritual. The reassuring magic about her dissipated, the light faded. Elvarien plummeted into darkness. It filled her lungs, her hands trembled, she couldn't move. Or cry for help.

"HELLO THERE!"

Elvarien's scream cracked a mirror in an Guyven's room across the hall, and woke everyone in the keep except Aldanon. She lay huddled on the steps, shaking, tired, drained. And there, a flurry of thick golden hair appeared. A small hand prodded her.

"Grobnar!" Elvarien gasped hoarsely. The bottle of wine she gripped tightly moments before in her hand lay smashed on the steps.

She heard the sound of Kana's voice in the distance.

_Oh great._

"Grobnar, what in Corellon's name are you _doing_?"

"Well I heard someone coming down the steps… and I thought maybe it'd be funny, you know, to yell really loudly when they opened the door! Only you didn't-"

"GROBNAR!"

"Oh dear! Please don't hurt me. You're the only person who hasn't tried and I was hoping-"

"What is this?" came a gravelly bark of a voice.

Ammon Jerro stood looming over the elf and the gnome with a torch grasped in his veined hand.

"Nothing that would interest you," Elvarien got up and looked into his disdainful yellow eyes. "Sorry to disturb your rest."

"I was not resting. I do not indulge in that wasteful state." He returned to the old ritual chambers.

_Old windbag. _

"How's it going Casavir?" Grobnar chirped.

Blood left Elvarien's face and she looked behind her. Casavir's face was nearly as white as hers.

"My lady! Are you alright?" in dim light from the basement his face was a mixture of fear and worry.

Fear? Since when did Casavir fear anything?

"I'm fine…" Elvarien shuddered, her whole body was freezing. "Grobnar… played a practical joke on me."

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I said I'm fine."

Ignoring Elvarien's words Casavir took her gently but urgently by the wrist. It was like a vice grip so Elvarien didn't bother to struggle. The hallway was almost completely dark.

"All the torches are out," Elvarien said aloud, weakly, being pulled along.

"I sensed something… evil. Did you feel it?"

"Yes. It was the Guardian."

The paladin stopped and turned to face Elvarien. She avoided his gaze. Casavir's aura engulfed her, warming and peaceful, giving her strength. Casavir was out of his armor, he wore a light cotton shirt and trousers. His body was so graceful, a shame it had to be hidden by iron most of the time.

"Knight Captain!" Kana entered the main hall at a march with four greycloaks behind her. "We've been looking for you. There was a disturbance-"

"Yes. Please, can you take these men and search the grounds? As a precaution," she glanced at Casavir. "I don't think it's here anymore."

"An intruder? We better wake everyone."

"No, no. There was no intruder. I had… a feeling, that's all. So did Casavir. But it's gone now."

"A… feeling?" Kana repeated incredulously. The lieutenant had experience only with physical threats.

"An evil presence," Casavir said grimly.

"I didn't sense anything," Sand, wrapped in a quilt, strolled out from the East wing where most of the living quarters were.

"Not with your head between two leaves of a book, you wouldn't," Qara yawned, robed arms folded.

"Oh please, no bickering," Elvarien said before Sand opened his mouth to retort. "Everyone, please go back to sleep. I'll go around to see if all is well. Don't trouble yourselves."

An outpouring of protests began. Elvarien's head began to ache.

"Go back to your rooms!" Her sharp order silenced everyone. She had never used her authority in such a manner.

Kana, surprised but obedient, left the main hall. The greycloaks decided the Knight Captain really meant to return to duty and not to retire. Qara shrugged her shoulders and followed Kana. Sand gave Elvarien a funny look, and instead of returning to his room, went into the library.

_Might as well be his bedroom._

Casavir remained. "I would prefer-" he began.

"No," Elvarien kept her voice firm. "You'll need rest. I intend to travel into the mountains to the Ironfist stronghold tomorrow, or the day after. I think I'll bring you with me, besides Khelgar."

The paladin nodded, knowing a formal dismissal when he heard one. "I will see you on the morrow."

"Indeed."


	5. Mt Galardrym

_Sorry for the three week delay. I was on holiday for two and now I have to find a job. D: If you have any criticisms, they are verily welcome. Verrrrillllyyyyy. _

"Fresh pickings for the vultures!"

_Do we always look that pathetic? Maybe we should buy a catapult. _

Five fire giants charged down the slope, axes and clubs swinging. Even as the giants were twice the height and four times the girth of a human, Khelgar did not hesitate to lunge ahead at the first two. He put dents in their steel plated legs, trying to reach the weak points in their armor. Beside Khelgar, Casavir's hammer beat the enemy back. Some giants now carried crushed arms at their sides, or staunched the flow of blood from their smashed faces with their fists. Sand's cone of cold froze the remaining giants to death, as Elvarien had just begun plunging her rapier into vital organs. Indeed giants are, essentially, still humanoids.

"That," Elvarien wiped away giant blood running her nose, "was too easy."

Casavir furrowed his brow as he did before the attack, his black hair soaked dark red.

_Oh Tyr, those eyebrows. They'll be glaring at me the rest of the trip._

"I would not take the threat so lightly."

"You don't take anything lightly."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Guess."

"Ookay," Khelgar crossed between the elf and the paladin, gauntleted hands up. "Remember, we're just fightin' against the giants."

"Indeed," Sand sniffed. "We all reek of the beasts. The gases wafting to the east are no doubt deadly. And this _heat_. No wonder the children are turning savage."

"I'm thirty-eight, hardly a child," Casavir countered stiffly.

"Oh please, that's _nothing_. Try living several centuries."

"Agreed," the dwarf shifted in his chainmail and scratched his chin. "Why don't we make camp, eh? Cool off. It's dangerous to go climb in the dark with those bastards waiting for us up there."

"Suns going down fast," Elvarien shaded her eyes from the golden glare just overcoming the western side of the mountain. She turned to Casavir and Khelgar. "No point in either of you keeping watch. I will take the first four hours, Sand the next."

"Elves." Khelgar began unrolling his cot in a huff.

Out of sight behind a large boulder, Sand meditated. A few hours had passed, but Elvarien didn't feel tired at all.

"Nothing to report I suppose," the wizard drawled. She could nearly hear his boots scuff against the ground.

Instead of a fire to keep her company, Elvarien wore an enchanted ring. She found it in one of her pockets amongst the tack crumbs and scrolls. It was jade and glowed green like an emerald. Further on Khelgar snored and Casavir pretended to sleep.

"A nice piece. More intricately crafted than some I've seen." Elvarien sneaked a glance at him as he sat down a few feet away on her right. Reading her face, a wry smile appeared on his. "Not worth much in gold, of course."

"No." She returned the smile.

Sand brushed dirt off on his knees. His dark robes were paler for the dust, and the hems were caked with mud. "Ugh. Well now, take your rest."

"Is it really true…" Elvarien began, looking at a few whisps of grass drifting in the wind, the only plants that managed to survive on the firey mountain. "That I am quite young as an elf?"

Sand seemed confused by the question. "Why, yes."

"What I mean is, isn't it unusual for someone my age to leave home?"

"Well… I have my theories. You would be full grown for an eladrin now. 'Moon elves' like myself or _Teu-tel-quessir_, in our native tongue, are no different. However your manners should be like a babe's still. Wiser than some of our acquaintance…Yet too full young to live the life you lead. My suspicion is, you are not full eladrin, but part human."

"I don't look half-elven, like Duncan."

"Consider it a blessing you don't look like him," Sand said amusedly. "Part elf, Elvarien. Perhaps an ancestor of yours was a half-elf. You may even claim more than one race of eladrin, though your appearance may conceal it. I assume you know little of your heritage?" The wizard left it an open question.

"Some. My mother was _Teu-tel-quessir,_ as you call it. As for my father, I have no knowledge."

"Ah, then I suppose we can only surmise. Or find a diviner, though their kind is rare these days. Sometimes, strange though it may seem, discovering your parentage does not always bring the peace you wish to your life."

Elvarien frowned. "I'd still like to know more about our people… Sand, what can you tell me about the Feywild?"

"Do I look like a portable library?"

"You read everything Sand, books in Elvish I can't read."

"Learn," he said sharply.

Elvarien imitated the annoyed look he so often used.

"To understand a people, start with their language," was his reply.

"If I ever get the time!"

"Keep yer voices down," Khelgar yawned; his axe leant loosely on his shoulder. "Want to bring every fire giant on the mountain on top of us? Clangeddin's beard-"

"Due to the inconvenience of surroundings swarming with sub-intelligent beings (more than the usual lot), and since I am on this 'watch'…" Sand outlined dryly. "… It is safe to say there will be no unwanted visitors this night. With ears and eyes enough those giants would have ambushed us already, had I not attended to our camp. Your nocturnal concerts, Khelgar, are enough to reawaken dismembered zombies."

"I could flatten you in three seconds wizard," Khelgar humphed. "Don't tempt me!"

Changing the subject quickly before a fight broke out, Elvarien asked: "Clangeddin, is that your god Khelgar?" Climbing this mountain was foul indeed with irritable companions.

"What?" the dwarf said abruptly pulled out of his indignation. Khelgar started to tug on his beard. Sand chuckled quietly.

"Dwarven isn't it?" Elvarien added.

Khelgar nodded. "You wouldn't catch me praying to an elven god, like your…"

"Rillifane Rallathil," Elvarien finished for him.

"What a mouthful! Clangeddin Silverbeard indeed! Father of Battle, slayer of giants!"

"You worship Mystra, right Sand?" Elvarien asked. Khelgar gave the wizard the evil eye.

Their conversation continued on, Elvarien encouraging both Sand and Khelgar to impart knowledge of their deities. Elvarien put her chin in her hands, her knees propped up to hold them. She felt comfortable leaning against the warm rocks for once.

"I still cannot fathom, as a spellcaster, you continue to pay homage to Rallathil," Sand said questioningly.

Searching the stars, Elvarien said:"I love trees, the forest. They protect us, arm us, and give us tools to build great cities… He is also Daeghun's God, so I followed his example as a child. Our temperaments are not wholly unlike. He harbors something against me; I feel it always when I am near him. At least I can try to understand that part of him."

"You should tell the paladin how you feel," Sand said quietly.

Elvarien came out of her reverie. Where did that come from? She stared at Sand, pale faced. "Sorry… Um…"

Khelgar seemed to catch on. "Now that I think of it, Casavir is like Daeghun."

Elvarien swung her bag from her shoulder, digging through it nonchalantly. "What are you talking about? I don't feel that way about Casavir."

Sand smirked. "Go tell him that, it will be very illuminating to him."

"No!" gasped, panicked. Casavir could sense lies. _Curse all paladins!_

"Shall I wake him?" Sand moved to get up.

_And curse all wizards too!_ "Don't you dare!" Elvarien hissed.

Khelgar laughed heartily beside her. "Why not? I'm tired of you making eyes at the lad all the time and sighing like a flighty servant girl."

"I _do not_ make eyes!" Elvarien's inhuman cheeks turned purple instead of red when she blushed. Sand took a step forward, enjoying every moment of her embarrassment. _Not so mighty are you now, leader? That's what he's thinking!_

"OK! OK! I do!" Elvarien covered her darkened face with her hands, mortified.

"Do what?" Sand smiled down at her, gloatingly.

Elvarien kept her voice to a whisper of a whisper and gave both men grave looks. "I do care. But you can't tell him. Or anyone!"

"Aha!" Sand seated himself. "So you confess. Tell me, why so dishonest with our glistening holy warrior?"

"I can't tell him," Elvarien tried to inject authority in her voice, unsuccessfully. "I'm a Knight, Captain of the keep, a leader. I am of a higher rank. It would be unfair to everybody if I favored someone so. It would also be an inappropriate advance on his person, as a Paladin, as a fellow soldier, and as a subordinate."

Khelgar grumbled. "You sound just like him! Doesn't she Sand? Bleeding cut out of the same ore!"

"It seems she's picked up foolish romantic notions from that primeval swamp she used to live in. Or maybe a few choice books. It's dramatics befitting a silly woman."

Elvarien hung her head. Then a crunching sound made Elvarien's slender ears twitch. Casavir had woken and was approaching them. _Gods save me! _Her face now was a shade of blueberry.

"My lady, it is only an hour or two until sunrise." Casavir stood before them, his shield left off but his hammer hung at his side. He had managed to wash the grime and blood off his face. His armor didn't gleam as it usually did; the soot in the air relentlessly clung to it so that cleaning was a wasted effort.

"Um," Elvarien said.

"It would be best if you rested." She lifted her head and stared at him. His features were stern in the light of the ring, and the fire Sand had just conjured.

"O…ok." Elvarien got up and walked slowly to Sand's boulder, her slightly open pack slung over her shoulder. When she got to his spot, her keen ears picked up the sharp sounds of whispers. _How much did he hear? More shit to shovel_, she thought woefully. She heard Casavir's voice, as clear as if it rumbled close to her ear.

"I am worried about our leader."

"What for?" Sand said, his smarmy self.

"Ever since Shandra died… she's acted peculiarly. Telling lies or speaking with hidden meaning. Drinking. She is disdainful towards me often."

"What'd you expect, she's grieving," spoke Khelgar.

"I've never known someone to grieve as such," Casavir returned.

"I suggest you get your nose out of her business, if you're not willing to be a _man_ about it," Khelgar said sternly.

"Let it go. She's our leader. We can only serve."

Elvarien heard the laugh in Sand's voice. Perhaps she wouldn't wallop him in the morning after all. But he sure deserved it.


End file.
